


Almost Unreal

by MsJones



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Crush, F/M, One Night Stand, Randy!Altaïr, Romance, Soppy Ending, blurred lines of fantasy and reality, resolving sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1334848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJones/pseuds/MsJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah, a young girl, who has lusted after Altaïr for some time, finally meets her hero; things get steamy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Unreal

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, I do not own or profit from Assassin’s Creed or any relevant characters, which remain the property of Ubisoft. Not even Altaïr...

I see him from time to time. 

I can't miss him, with his white hood, calf-length tunic and red sash about his waist, weapons rattling at his belt. I have seen him fight off rogue city guards, the corrupt ones intent on destroying the peace of the Holy Land, a dozen at a time, before calmly walking away from the gory chaos he has created. I have witnessed his acts of bravery, rescuing innocent citizens from the clutches of those shady soldiers. I have watched his daring escapes, climbing to impossibly high heights, onto the turrets of fortresses, stepping upon the highest platform and then... tumbling gracefully to the ground into a bale of hay, an assured soft landing.

He amazes and fascinates me, even though I have never seen his face. I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye, and I cannot help but turn my head and watch this enigma stealthily skulk among the crowd, unnoticed, it seems, by everyone apart from me.

I only know his name. Altaïr.

He turns me on so much.

 

At night I lie awake and imagine he, in an another of his escapades, has climbed through my chamber window, in an attempt to flee from some tenacious guardsmen. I gasp in shock, a little afraid, before realising who it is.

He hears my little gasp, and turns abruptly, towards me.

Noticing I am but a simple woman, dressed in little more than a cotton undershirt, he turns and stalks stealthily to the door. “Wait, sir,” I whisper. “Won't you stay awhile?”

He turns and considers me, a beautiful girl, dark hair tumbling around slim shoulders, exposed from the wide neck of the flimsy undergarment. My comely figure, with full luscious breasts and rounded, curvy hips, is silhouetted in the moonlight. I cannot yet see his face; the shadow of his hood conceals it from me, but I imagine his bright brown, almost golden eyes, considering me. Temptation stirs within him.

“Good evening, fair maiden,” he says huskily. “I... must apologise for disturbing your slumber.”

I smile at him. “It's okay,” I answer, my heart thundering in my chest as he slowly approaches me. “I wasn't sleeping. It's too...” I tug at the collar of my makeshift nightgown, and stare directly into his face, trying to make eye contact. “Hot.”

A shaft of moonlight illuminates his face at last. He has strong features, beautiful eyes, auriferous as the morning sun, and the most kissable, inviting lips I have ever seen on a man. I can tell those gorgeous eyes are on me, considering me, perhaps, I hope, mentally undressing me. Not that it would take much, for I am wearing nothing but this old undershirt. I wish I were wearing something more flowing, more alluring.

It doesn't matter, though. He smiles faintly, enjoying the way I said 'hot,' perhaps trying to fathom whether I'm talking about the humid twilight of Acre, or his masculine beauty. I think he certainly knows that I meant the latter.

His smile grows a little wider as he approaches me. Sitting on the edge of my bed, he feigns a thoughtful look. “Perhaps I can help there,” he says, leaning closer. Close enough for me to smell him.

His scent is intoxicating. A little sweaty, but wouldn't anyone be after running from those unforgiving men, King Richard's trained guards? He smells of honey, tangerine, and those exotic spices they sell upon the docks. The fragrance reaches my nostrils, and comforts me.

Before I know it, he is pulling my blankets away from me. They are coarse and cheap, not good quality at all, but they keep away any mosquitoes and other biting insects which are not adverse to flying in and attacking me. Before I can protest, he holds a surprisingly gentle finger to my lips. I allow the skin to come into contact with his, but he pulls away quickly. “Does that not feel better?” he murmurs, his hands finding my bare knees. I wonder if they will slide up, between my thighs and further. I want him so much. I want those hands, rough and calloused through swordsmanship as they are, to explore every inch of my body, to calm me as I shake, trembling at the unknown, anticipating something forbidden.

I nod rapidly. My breath is coming fast, and there is a heavy wetness between my legs. I know it is not my monthly bleed as that came and went a week past. I feel it is my body preparing itself for an invasion, one that I have craved for a long time.

The man considers me for a few moments longer. I am so excited by his presence that I do not realise he is now holding my arms, cupping my elbows in his hands. “Are you sure you are well?” he asks, concerned.

My heart is hammering in my chest, and my tense breathing is now obvious. I am sweating, not from fever, but through nervousness, and excitement. I want him so badly, and I wonder if he knows. “I'm fine,” I finally pant feebly, but the one they call Altaïr cannot be fooled so easily; so clever is he. Reaching for the earthenware jug beside my bed, he pours a little water into the palm of his hand, and empties the contents over my already moist forehead. “There,” he says. “Is that better?”

I nod again, feeling the cooling water against my skin. “It's a good thing... you are here...” I say breathlessly. “Thank you,”

“You're most welcome, sweet maiden,” Altaïr whispers, stroking his damp fingers onto my cheek. “I would like to stay with you a while longer. To make sure you are okay, you understand.” He reaches for the silver clasp of his knife holster, under his right shoulder and unfastens it, allowing it to slip to the floor.

I smile, wondering what he will remove next, willing it to be his hood. I have longed to see his handsome face in all its glory, but I am unsure he will be that forward with me. Instead, his hands reach for a buckle on his left side. It is at his back, so he is struggling a little to get to it. I offer my assistance with my dainty fingers gently unhitching the metal spike from its leather host, and pulling the strap free.

I notice Altaïr's lips smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers, as his sword falls with a metal _clunk_ , to the floor. He then proceeds to remove his soft leather boots, pulling them off, and dropping them at the foot of my bed. Meanwhile, I find my hands picking at the knot of his silky red sash, carefully untying the soft material. I am surprised at how luxurious the material is.

Noticing what I am doing to him, Altaïr nods. “It is rather warm in here,” he says. “I thank you for your assistance.” His hand reaches up and brushes my raven hair away from my face, rough fingertips making contact with the soft skin of my cheeks. I hear him sigh gently. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asks.

I can feel myself blushing, and wonder if Altaïr has ever felt my eyes upon him during his time in Acre. In all honesty, nobody had ever called me 'beautiful' in my life, and I am honoured that this lone warrior thinks I am so. I watch him as he takes his leather fingerless gloves from his hands. Suddenly he tenses up his arm, and pulls his wrist back, revealing a sharp and shiny blade. I hold a terrified gasp in my pounding chest. For a second I panic and wonder what he is about to do with that thing; am I about to be murdered? I have done nothing wrong! I am involved in no underhand deals, and neither is my family. We are but a humble merchant family, and have nothing to do with any criminal activity, or any strange conspiracy he might be fighting against. My hands are trembling, and I look Altaïr straight in the face, resigned to my fate. At least his beauty will be the last thing I ever see...

He is grinning. Sensing my panic, he retracts the blade, and gently, lovingly, removes the bracer. “It's okay, my darling,” he says mildly. “I was just showing off... I'm sorry.” He takes me in his strong arms and holds me firmly, stroking my neck and shoulders, those rough fingertips of his sneaking underneath my cotton shirt. He keeps me close to his chest, my face buried in his muscular shoulders, until I stop shaking. His touch comforts me quickly and I start feeling very stupid about being so frightened. He is not here to hurt me.

I feel Altaïr's hands brush my chest as he lets go, unable to take his light brown eyes from me. He tugs at his tunic with his left hand, and it opens up; he is wearing a simple cotton undershirt underneath. Reaching up, he finally removes his cowl and tosses it aside.

So, this is what he looks like. He is impossibly handsome, with his gorgeous cheekbones, those eyes, and dark brown hair. I want to reach up and stroke it, to find out if it is as soft as it looks, but he forbids me, holding my arms, leading my hands to his shoulders, where I slide the tunic from his body. It falls onto my mattress, then slips quietly to the floor.

“Mmm, that's better,” he murmurs, wrapping his bare arms around me, his fingers caressing my sides, as if they are longing to be underneath the material. My hands slip down his back, to his waist, and I dare to allow my fingertips to creep below his waistband. I wait to see if he has noticed. If he has, he is keeping it to himself, his cheek resting on my shoulder, as if he is just seeking comfort.

Frowning, I lie down upon my bed, pulling him with me. He follows willingly, a wicked glint in his gorgeous eyes. I am pleased to find this causes my nightdress to ride up, revealing a little more of my thighs. I know this is bad, leading him on like this, but I have wanted him for months and months. Now I can't believe he is half-undressed, lying on top of me. We have yet to kiss, but I know that moment is imminent. My lips tingle at the very thought of it.

“More comfortable, sir?” I ask, tugging at his breeches, letting them slide past his hips. He smiles back at me; he looks all the more gorgeous when he does that, even in the half-light of the moon. I take the smile to mean yes. He is wriggling his hips, determined to get out of his trousers without letting me go. Finally, he manages to kick them free from his ankles.

His hand reaches up my nightdress, pulling it up further past my hips, exposing my stomach. “Is this okay?” he asks, reaching even further up, touching my breasts, carefully massaging them, one by one. “You like that?”

I close my eyes and relax back onto my mattress. It is bliss. The man I have adored from afar for months has come to me, and wants me in the very same way I want him. I don't want him to stop, but he lifts himself up, kneeling astride me. Reaching down, he peels his socks from his feet, and stretches up, pulling off his undershirt, so I can finally see his beautifully formed, athletic torso. “Beautiful,” I whisper to myself. “If only this were all real.”

Altaïr leans back down, his face dangerously close to mine. I can feel his breath on my neck, his lips drawing close to my ear. “Who says it isn't?” he asks, pinching me playfully on my inner thigh.

“Ouch!” I exclaim with a giggle, before realising this is more than just a fantasy. Altaïr, the beautiful, fit, lone soldier, must have noticed how I have been watching him, and tracked me down. This is just unreal, but it is true, Altaïr is with me, large as life, and I think he feels the same way about me as I have for a long time.

“How did you know?”

Altaïr winks. “I have my ways,” he replies enigmatically. “You have no idea how I can find things out, Sarah.”

I gasp. “How do you...” Before I can finish my sentence, he gently presses his lips to mine.

This is the moment I have been waiting for. Month after month of watching this man's incredible feats of strength, death-defying leaps of pure faith, endurance against the worst of enemies, has all led to this. All this time, those times we passed in the street, never exchanging so much as a glance, he _knew._ What's more, he knows my name. How? I can only wonder as he slides his lips down my chin, to my throat.

“Very nice,” Altaïr comments, as he reaches for my breasts again. He tugs on my shirt and lifts it over my head. I raise my arms to let him take it off me completely. “Cute little breasts you have there.” He reaches down and suckles on my right nipple for a few seconds. He looks up coyly. “Delicious,” he pronounces.

I wrap my arms around his waist and decide it is only fair that he should be naked, too. I begin to tug his shorts down, and place my hand in between his legs. That's when I feel it. He is as excited as I am.

It's big. Very big. I can't wait to find out what he can do with it!

He sighs as I gently stroke him. I watch his eyes flit closed, an expression of bliss on his face; he seems to be enjoying himself. “Oh... Sarah,” he sighs. “You've done this before, haven't you?”

I merely smile. “Maybe,” I tell him, with a gentle kiss. Stroking his bottom, I ask him, “What do you want to do to me?”

“I told you, I wanted to make sure you're okay,” Altaïr tells me, his thumbs passing over my nipples. He doesn't seem able to leave my tits alone. “You seem... a little lost.”

“Hmm?” I murmur, caressing his hips and thighs. “Lost? What do you mean by that?”

Altaïr is staring into my eyes, with his beautiful, unusual light brown ones. “You don't seem to believe that I am really here with you.” He is smiling as he says this.

This is true; I can't believe he is here. I have dreamed about meeting him, and talking with him, kissing those luscious lips, so many nights. I had no idea that he would find me and... ambush me, for want of a better word, like this. Not that I mind, not at all, this is the best thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life. He is holding me close, protecting me, and we are both naked, and aroused. There is only one logical thing to do.

“If you are real,” I whisper huskily into his ear, “make love to me.” I give him a wide-eyed stare, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Altaïr laughs, and strokes my long black hair, curling it behind my ear. “Darling,” he whispers back “I do not wish to hurt you.” I am not sure whether he is being serious or not. “Do you really want to do this?”

Underneath his body, I slowly pull my thighs apart. “Yes, please,” comes my passionate reply. I imagine his big powerful body all over me, hands stroking my delicate skin, as he slides slowly and sensually in and out of me, whilst he lays sweet kisses upon me.

He smiles down at me. “I swear I will be gentle,” he says, kneeling astride my hips. “Just tell me to stop if it is too much.” At this point, I don't care how much it hurts; I just want him inside me.

“Okay,” I whisper in reply, my soft fingertips caressing his back, working their way up to his neck, just barely running my fingers through his hair. He is readying himself over my wet opening when suddenly he stops. “No,” he whispers, before rolling onto the mattress next to me, and embracing me from behind. He clings to my upper arm, as if in desperation. “I... can't do it.”

I turn over to face him. “Whyever not, sweet one?” I ask, kissing his soft, trembling lips. I am trying to hide my disappointment, and understand his reluctance. Here I am, a young maiden, offering myself to him, expecting nothing in return, and yet, he doesn't want to take such easy pickings. To be blunt, sex in this city is terribly hard to find; for free, at least.

Altaïr reaches up and strokes my face, his hands shaking. “My love, you are so sweet and pure. I want your first time to be special. Not taken away by a thief in the night.”

I smile sweetly, masking inner frustration, He thinks I'm a virgin. Now who's being naïve? “It's okay,” I whisper quietly to him. “You don't have to do something that you don't want to do. But there's something that you ought to know, sir.”

“Hmm?” Altaïr gives me an interested look, running his fingers through my hair.

“I have also been watching you, Altaïr.” He looks surprised when I use his name. “I have seen what you do, and I think you are wonderfully brave for standing up to those guards.” I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek, up near his left ear. “I am grateful for the protection you are giving this city, when nobody else is.” Wrapping my arms around him, I nestle into his perfect muscular chest. “I thank, you, sir, from the bottom of my heart.”

“You are most welcome, my sweet girl,” he replies. “Though I must ask... how do you know my name?”

“I have my ways,” I reply, smirking wickedly up at him. The simple fact is I heard one of his hooded colleagues address him as such, as I was walking by one day, purely by chance.

Altaïr laughs softly, knowing that I have turned his words against him. “You are so cute, Sarah,” he tells me, kissing my forehead. “So adorable.” I feel his hands that were on my shoulders a moment ago, slide down and touch the sides of my breasts. Keenly, his right hand brushes over the left side of my chest, and gently squeezes my bosom, making me giggle. I feel myself blushing as his hand reaches further down, tickling my stomach, venturing below my navel. He touches me gently, playing his fingers inside me. Sighing, my breath becomes short and shallow.

“I like this,” I tell him, truthfully. No man has ever touched me quite like this before; Altaïr certainly knows what he is doing.”I like this a lot!” What would be even better is if he were inside me, having his way with me, like I know he wants to. I can feel him against my thigh; he's just as big as before.

Altaïr seems to read my mind, as he withdraws his fingers, and in one swift motion, pins me prone onto the bed, and slips himself into me, almost accidentally. The passion has taken over as he is not being as gentle as he promised, not one bit. His fingernails dig into the thin flesh of my shoulders, and he is making me take his weight as he leans heavily on me. His hip movements are desperate as they are passionate. It's like he had been holding back for so long and he just couldn't help himself.

You might think I'm a pervert, a masochist, but I like it. In fact it doesn't hurt at all. It feels... wonderful.

Just as quickly he withdraws, and grabs himself. I look up at him inquisitively and see his eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are moving soundlessly. _Not yet, not yet, please God, not yet,_ he appears to be saying. What that means, I have no idea, Instead, I just reach up and caress his sides.

This seems to make him crazy.

His eyes snap open, and he has a strange look in them. Firmly, commandingly, but not forcefully, he takes my wrists and holds them rigidly against the mattress. Kneeling over me, he enters me again, pushing himself deeper inside of me. His primal grunts are a little disturbing, but I try and block them out with my own sighs of pleasure, which are equally as loud, and genuine. “Oh, Altaïr,” I sigh breathlessly, “don't stop... my God... don't you... dare... ever... stop!”

Sadly he does stop, with a small whisper of what sounds like, _Oh, God, not again._ He performs the same strange ritual with himself, eyes tightly closed, throbbing hardness held tight in his hand. He remains like that for about a minute, but it feels so much longer. I crave him inside me once more. When he does eventually guide himself gently back in, I am so excited, I feel I could orgasm from his slightest touch. “Ohh, you are good to me,” I tell him as he grinds up against me, hard and fast. His hands are back on my wrists, holding me tight as if I am his prisoner. I willingly succumb to this submission and enjoy the sensations. My God, there are no words to describe it. I feel like, any second, I will come, and come hard!

Just at that moment, Altaïr pulls himself out of me, panting hard. “Oh, God, Sarah!” he yells, as I feel something warm squirt onto my stomach. He shouts so loudly, I can hear it echoing outside, around the harbour. I can even hear the beating wings of a flock of birds flying away, startled by the sudden cry.

Smiling up at him I put a finger to my lips. “Shush,” I hush him, as he grabs my blanket from the floor and wipes away the fluid from my torso.

“Sorry,” he whispers back, gently dabbing at my moist skin. “Will I wake your parents?” He winks at me, devilishly.

“Maybe,” I reply, giggling as Altaïr suddenly looks panicked. “They're in Damascus, but maybe, you woke them up with your yelling!”

Altaïr looks flushed, from more than just the wild lovemaking, but the raucousness of it, too. “I couldn't help it,” he admits, with a shy smile. “You excite me so much, Sarah.” He leans down and gives me a kiss, a surprisingly passionate kiss on the lips. I return the favour, my tongue sliding into his mouth, darting around playfully, my lips gently massaging his. God, he tastes so good. I want him, and I want him forever.

After a while, he reluctantly breaks away from me. “You're amazing, my darling,” he whispers into my ear, as he lies down beside me. “May I sleep beside you tonight?”

“Of course you may,” I whisper tenderly. “I may let you stay every night for the rest of our lives...” I fling an arm around him, embracing him tightly.

“Would that I could, dear heart,” he says sadly, a voice full of regret. “Alas, I cannot.” He strokes my face. “I'm sure you know what my work entails.”

I swallow a lump of sadness. Of course. The work of an Assassin takes one everywhere. Tonight may be all we have. He could be dead this time tomorrow, or else in some other far-away land, fighting someone else's cause.

“Darling,” Altaïr whispers to me tenderly, “can I feel a tear?”

Blinking rapidly to mask my moist eyes, I shake my head. “No... no,” I reassure him, unconvincingly. “Just... tired...” I yawn widely. “My eyes water when I get tired,” I explain, trying to cover my obvious upset.

Altaïr seems to accept this. “I suppose we'd better get some sleep,” he agrees, I can feel his strong arms encircle my little naked body.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Goodnight, my darling.” I kiss his rough, stubbly cheek.

Closing my eyes and resting my head on his shoulder, I wish things were different. I wish the night didn't have to end. I wish that Altaïr were not an Assassin, that he didn't have to kill, maim, and risk his own life. I wish he could stay with me forever, cradled in each other's arms like this. Then again, keeping him would be so unreal. Like a storybook or a folk song

He is here with me now, though, and that is enough. It will have to be. I am so glad to have lived my fantasy, at least this once.

“Sweet dreams, my beautiful Assassin...”

_FIN_


End file.
